Gentle as water sliding down your face,
A voice like a bell.
A smile as delicate as a rose,
But as strong as an eagle.
Hands and arms with ink scribbled over them like tattoos.
Hair like a sunset.
Eyes as soft as silk.
That’s you, Moth.
Posted in response to the challenge Simile.
I could ramble on all day about the ethics of all the things our country’s done.
But I won’t.
Instead I’ll say this one thing: it’s going to happen again.
Walking home alone.
She spots a man nearby.
He whistles, shouts a lewd comment.
She tries to ignore him at first.
He yells again.
She calls back, laughing nervously, "Maybe another time!"
He doesn't listen.
I write longhand.
Journal, pencil, print.
Letters melding together in a harmony on the page.
Graphite scratching the paper, pencil sharpening every 5 minutes.
Lined paper, perfect for doodles and random thoughts.
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